


I'm the monster.

by just_a_huge_nerd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Asdfghjkl, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Canon Divergence, Dumbldores a dick, F/M, Gay, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, I'm Sorry, M/M, Self Harm, TRIGGER WARNING!!, honestly hate myself, sorry im depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22184860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_huge_nerd/pseuds/just_a_huge_nerd
Summary: When the Order are talking about the new weapon that You Know Who has, Harryu thinks theyre talking about him, and basically blames himself for Mr Weasley getting hurt.Wow yet another angsty one-shot (no longer one-shot obviously). I love projecting my own issues onto characters.PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF IT COULD TRIGGER YOU!!! Stay safe
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

“...they searched the whole area and couldn’t find the snake anywhere. It seems to have vanished after attacking you, Arthur...but You-Know-Who can’t have expected a snake to get in, can he?”  
“I reckon he sent it as a lookout.” growled Moody, “‘cause he hasn’t had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he’s trying to get a clearer picture of what he could be facing and if Arthur hadn’t been there the beast would’ve had a lot more time to look around. So, Potter said he saw it all happen?”  
“Yes,” said Mrs Weasley. She sounded rather uneasy. “You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this.”  
“Yeah, well,” said Moody, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.”  
“Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” whispered Mrs Weasley.  
“‘Course he’s worried,” growled Moody. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake. Obviously, Potter doesn’t realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him-”  
Harry pulled the extendable ear out of his own, his heart hammering very fast and heat rushing up his face. All of the Weasley kids were staring at him, waiting to know what he had heard. They can never know. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Was this why Dumbledore would no longer meet Harry’s eyes? Did he expect to see Voldemort staring out of them, afraid, perhaps, that their vivid green might turn suddenly to scarlet, with catlike slits for pupils? Harry remembered how the snakelike face of Voldemort had once forced itself out of the back of Professor Quirrell’s head, and he ran his hand over the back of his own, wondering what it would feel like if Voldemort burst out of his skull. . . .  
He felt dirty, contaminated, as though he were carrying some deadly germ, unworthy to sit on the underground train back from the hospital with innocent, clean people whose minds and bodies were free of the taint of Voldemort. . . . He had not merely seen the snake, he had been the snake, he knew it now. . . .  
And then a truly terrible thought occurred to him, a memory bobbing to the surface of his mind, one that made his insides writhe and squirm like serpents. . . .  
“What’s he after apart from followers?”  
“Stuff he can only get by stealth . . . like a weapon. Something he didn’t have last time.”

I’m the weapon, Harry thought, and it was as though poison were pumping through his veins, chilling him, bringing him out in a sweat as he swayed with the train through the dark tunnel. I’m the one Voldemort’s trying to use, that’s why they’ve got guards around me everywhere I  
go, it’s not for my protection, it’s for other people’s, only it’s not working, they can’t have someone on me all the time at Hogwarts. . . . I did attack Mr. Weasley last night, it was me, Voldemort made me do it and he could be inside me, listening to my thoughts right now. . . . 

“Are you sure that you’re alright, Harry, dear?” said Mrs. Weasley in a worried voice, as they walked around the unkempt patch of grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place. “You look ever so pale. . . . Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple of hours’ sleep before dinner, all right?”  
Harry nodded dully, trying to smile. 

I’m the monster.

Harry could feel his heart in his mouth. He attacked Mr Weasley. He could have killed Mr Weasley. The man who welcomed him into his home and his family like another son. The man who finds Muggles and rubber ducks interesting and collects batteries.

I’m the weapon. 

He was half-way up the stairs. 

“FILTHY HALF-BLOOD! STAIN OF DISHONOUR TO THE WIZARDING WORLD- YOU CHILD OF FILTH-” As usual, Sirius’s mother’s portrait screamed and wailed as Harry walked past, but unlike usual, he had absolutely no energy or real reason to force the curtains closed.  
She is right. I am a stain. My darkness just spreads like spilled ink on fresh parchment, overwhelming and claiming all those who closest to me with insatiable wrath. 

He reached his room. He was sleeping in Sirius’s brothers’ room as Sirius had offered it to him.  
He probably thinks I’m too dangerous to sleep in the same room as someone else.  
Harry laughed bitterly to himself. He was probably right.

I deserve to hurt.

No. He had promised- never again.

But I’m the monster. I’m the weapon.

This is a hole. He would never be able to get out again.

But I deserve the pain.

If he started again, he would never stop.

Just once, that’s all I need.

It was never just once.

I swear, just this one night.

He had made a promise.

“Don’t fall in. Don’t fall in. Don’t fall in,” Harry muttered in the silent room.

Just this once, he promised..

And then he fell in.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry jumped up from where he was crouched on the floor, suddenly filled with adrenaline. 

His trunk. He needed his blade. 

Harry had learnt many moons ago to use a disposable blade instead of his wand, so the spells could not be found when a certain person checked it. He always kept a blade hidden in the same old pair of Dudleys socks in his trunk. 

Bad habits die hard.

He found the socks and tore them open, like a niffler searching for a gold coin. The second his fingers grasped the cool, brittle metal he lifted it up and brought it down on his forearm. Just under the elbow, faint scars still littered his pale skin.

One. Two. Three.

I’m the weapon.

Four. Six. Ten.

The beautiful scarlet paint was racing down his arm, landing on the cold, hard floorboards.

Fifteen. 

Through the hole he fell.

Twenty.

I’m sorry Sirius.

He had lost count.

I tried. 

You’ll be better off without me.

Lying, losing consciousness on the cold floor in the middle of a dead mans room, Harry realised something.

Maybe he likes the fall.


	2. 2

Darkness. Darkness and pain.

Harry had passed out. In the middle of his room. Anyone could have just walked in and seen him covered in blood.

To say that he had been careless would be the overstatement of the millenia. 

Regret flooded him now that the high from cutting again had abandoned him. He had been clean for just more then a year. 

He had to get cleaned up now. He glanced at his watch. Bloody hell it was eight thirty. He had been unconscious for twelve hours.   
Harry looked down at his arms to inspect the damage, expecting the worst. And he was not disappointed.   
Countless cuts ran up and down both his forearms, from his elbow to his wrist. Some varied in severity, but most were jagged and several centre metres deep.   
He had to get cleaned up, Harry repeated to himself.   
The closest bathroom was a level down, where Ron and all the other Weasley children had slept. Of course it was.   
Grabbing his wand and an old rag from the desk in the room, Harry crept down the old stairs with as much stealth as he could manage.   
Turning right at the bottom of the steps, Harry then ducked into the bathroom.   
He let out a breath of relief.   
The cuts were inflamed but had scanned over slightly. Dry blood was startlingly bright against his pasty British skin. Harry wet the rag and started dabbing his arms. Although it wasn’t exactly the most sanitary material, it would have to do.  
After most of the blood had been absorbed by the rag, Harry grabbed his wand and started casting a sterilisation charm along with a light portanis charm to hide anything abnormal about his forearms.   
The routine was irritatingly familiar to him. Cut. Clean. Be calm and collected, just waiting until the next cut like a bomb waiting to detonate.   
Suddenly there was a loud wrapping at the bathroom door.   
“Harry? Is that you?” Hermione’s concerned voiced was muffled by the old oak wood seperating them.   
She apparently got the message when Harry didn’t respond after a moment.   
“We are leaving for Kings Cross in fifteen minutes, Harry. Make sure you have all of your things,” Hermione informed him.   
Once Harry was sure her footsteps had receded, he stood from where he was perched on the edge of the bathtub.   
Well, he goes nothing.   
———————————————————  
Creeping back up to his room, Harry could not help but dread going back to Hogwarts. Umbridge’s temper, Snape’s torture and Dumbledore pretending he’s didn’t exist didn’t exactly sound appealing.   
He quickly changed into muggle clothes- jeans and a long shirt, shoved all of his stuff that had spread around the into his trunk and heaved it downstairs.   
Sitting around the dining room table, scoffing down breakfast, was Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny and... Sirius. Great.   
A chorus of half hearted “morning Harry”s filled the room, but Harry just nodded and said a quiet “good morning” in response.   
Come on. You’ve got to do better than that Harry chided himself.   
“Everyone excited for school?” He asked sarcastically with a forced smirk on his face. I’m the monster.   
Harry almost forgot that he was the reason that all the Weasleys were sad. He had been responsible for their fathers injury.   
He was Voldemort’s new weapon and he was putting everyone in danger by being here.   
He had to leave.   
———————————————————  
Kings Cross Station was an absolute nightmare. Muggle business men all hustling about on their way to important meetings and children crying everywhere.   
This was his chance. To make sure everyone would be safe. They would be better off without him anyway.   
“I’m just going to the loo,” Harry told Ron, who nodded.   
Tearing away from their group, Harry walked quickly back towards the exit, being sure to blend in with the crowd.   
First he needed to go to Gringots and remove a very large sum of money from his vault. Then, he would figure out the rest from there. Right now, he needed to get out of the station without being spotted. Which is quite a challenge, being Harry Potter. Staying hidden was of extreme importance, because any clue of where he has been could lead anyone to where he is.   
Harry ducked behind a pillar quickly to stay out of site of Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Quidich Captain and then he was out.   
Free in the muggle world, Harry hung his head and headed towards Gringots. No one else was going to get hurt by him.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is basically just a filler! The next one will be longer and stuff

Harry had heard of Shady Shin through Hagrid originally, in his second year at Hogwarts. He was a crook. Among other things, Shady Shin converted Sickles, Knuts and Galleons into Muggle money.  
So, Harry made his way towards Nockturn Alley wearing a big cloak and a scarf to try and hide his face.  
“What can I do for you this fine evening?” Shins voice was croaky and surprisingly high pitched, and he definitely didn’t look as intimidating as Harry had expected.  
He was tall and skinny and was wearing a suit that looked like he was from a fancy 80s street gang.  
“I need to exchange this,” Harry said in a slightly deeper voice than normal, “for muggle money”  
“Well you’ve come to the right place then,” Shin replied. “Let’s see what you’ve got then.”  
Harry took multiple heavy bags of galleons from his coat pocket and put them on the dirty table. He had emptied his vault in its entirety.  
Shady Shin slid the bag towards himself with a surprised expression on his face.  
“Merlins beard. Where’d you get all this?”  
Ignoring the question, Harry cleared his throat. “Can you do it?” He asked, “or should I find someone else?”  
“No no no I can do it,” Shin replied quickly.  
Harry just nodded. The sooner he did this, the sooner he could start a new life.  
He was just so sick of being the centre of the wizarding world. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the heir of slytherin, triwizard champion, Harry Potter the freak.  
“There you go,” Shady Shin interrupted just thoughts, handing him the bags back with the muggle money. “Nearly one million pounds. Don’t know what you’re going to do with all of that.”  
Harry stood up and shook the mans hand. He knew that there would be a surcharge but he needed the money now.  
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr?”  
Harry hadn’t planned this far ahead, so said the first name that came to mind.  
“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” and with that, Harry walked away, leaving the tall man looking startled.  
———————————————————  
The Flinders Street Motel was an old, dingy looking motel in an even dingier looking neighbourhood.  
There were plastic coverings on furniture and vending machines down the hallways. It was perfect.  
Harry was fully disconnected from the wizarding world and it was amazing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asdfghjkl I don’t even know

For the last two months, there had been an obviously empty seat at the Gryffindor table, but this morning was particularly depressing. It was the first Quiddich game of the school year, and the Gryffindor team was missing their best player, Harry Potter.   
His mysterious disappearance had sent shockwaves and rumours ripping through the wizarding community, each theory more ridiculous than the last.   
However, no matter how much they were pestered, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley told nosy Hogwarts students daily that Harry was just taking a vacation after the traumatic events of the previous years’ triwizard tournament. This, however, only made the idea that Voldemort had returned even more discreditable.   
Students weren’t the only ones bugging Ron and Hermione about Harry’s whereabouts. Delores Umbridge, (the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) had been constantly pestering Ron, Hermione and evening Neville Longbottom about where Harry had gone. She received the same over spoke response that everyone else did- Harry was on holiday.   
Of course, Ron, Hermione and all of the members of the Order of the Phoenix members knew that this was a lie. Harry was missing.   
He had disappeared the day they were meant to arrive back at Hogwarts after Christmas and hadn’t been seen or heard of since. That wasn’t for the Orders’ lack of trying, of course. Harry had completely vanished with no trace of where he had gone, other than an empty bank vault.   
—————————————————————  
The dark and silent rooms of 12 Grimmauld Place has seemed even more depressing since Harry had left.   
At first Remus visited lots, often staying several days and comforting Sirius in any way that he could. But after two months of Sirius searching obsessively for Harry, Remus could no longer stand to watch the love of his life wither away all over again. So, Remus had excepted a post on the outskirts of Transylvania as a favour for Dumbledore.   
After Remus left him, Sirius became even more desperate than ever, constantly searching for any clue of the last piece of family he had left.   
He didn’t sleep, he hardly ate and was still no closer to finding Harry than he had been the day he left four months ago.   
It was about three weeks ago when he checked the room Harry had stayed in before he left. It had been Regulus' room, so he usually avoided it. There was an old rag, covered in blood and red stains on the floor boards. It was amazing that he was still alive.   
He knelt there, silently sobbing for his nephew and the struggles that he had faced in his life. Harry had been doing so well- about a year without hurting himself but something must have snapped.   
Weasley. He thought he had attacked Arthur.   
‘Something he didn’t have before. A weapon’  
Sirius’s own words ran through his head.   
Fuck.   
Harry thought that he was Voldemort's weapon, that he was dangerous.   
He needed to help him.   
—————————————————————  
After that day, Sirius searched harder than ever, often turning into a big black dog and venturing to different parts of England. Until one day, he found him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow its actually getting interesting? 
> 
> sike

He was standing in a dark, curtained room lot by a single branch of. Handles. His hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of him. They were long-fingered and white as though they had not seen sunlight for years.   
Beyond the chair? In a pool of light cast upon the floor by candles, knelt a man in black robes.   
“I have been badly advised, it seems,” said Harry, in a high, cold voice that pulsed with anger.   
“Master, I crave your pardon,” croaked the man kneeling on the floor. The if his head glimmered in the candlelight. He seemed to be trembling.   
“I do not blame you, Rookwood,” said Harry in the same cold voice.   
He relinquished his grip on the. Hair and Wales around it, loser to the man on the floor, until he stood directly over him in the darkness, looking down from a far greater height than usual.   
“Are you sure if your facts, Rookwood?” asked Harry.   
“Yes, my lord, yes…I used to work in the department after-after all…”  
“Avery told me Bide would be able to remove it.”  
“Bode could never have taken it, Master… Bode would have known he could not…undoubtedly, that is why he fought so hard against Malfoys Imperius Curse…”  
“Stand up Rookwood,” Harry whispered.   
The kneeling man almost fell over in his haste to obey. He remained a little stopped when standing, as though halfway through a bow, and he darted terrified looks up at Harry’s face.   
“You have done well to tell me this,” said Harry. “Very well…I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems…but no matter…we begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort’s gratitude, Rookwood.”  
“My Lord… yes, My Lord,” gasped Rookwood, his voice hoarse with relief.   
“I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me.”  
“Of course, My Lord, of course… anything…”  
“Very well… you may go. Send Avery to me.”  
Rookwood scurried backwards, Boeing and disappeared through a door.   
Left alone in the darkroom, Harry turned towards the walk. A cracked, ages spotted mirror hung in the wall in the shadows. Harry moved towards ur. His reflection grew larger and clearer I the darkness… a face whiter than a skull… red eyes with slots for pupils…  
“NOOOOOOOOOO!”  
Harry sat straight up in the hard bed, looking around the small room. He was alone. It wasn’t real. He’s fine.   
He stood up, feeling light-headed and breathing heavily.   
He needed to get out of this room.   
Without even bothering to grab his invisibility cloak, Harry crossed the threshold and walked into the deserted street. He wasn’t worried about being seen, as it was about 3 am.   
Wondering around the abandoned streets of western London was a common occurrence for Harry, as his sleep was often disrupted by nightmares.   
At first, Harry always wore his cloak when travelling out of whatever place he was staying, just to be safe. But, when it’s 3 in the morning, he didn’t expect to run into anyone.   
After five minutes, Harry had completed his usual route and started heading back towards the motel he was currently staying in.   
Sighing and walking back into his tiny room, Harry went back to bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep.   
Little did he know, he had been seen. 

———————————————————  
Was he dreaming? Was this really happening? When Sirius had left the Orders headquarters that night, he hadn’t actually expected to find Harry. It was more of just an excuse to occupy his hyperactive brain for a few hours.   
But there he was. Skinny, pale and tired, but alive.   
The closer Sirius looked, the sadder the scene before him became. Harry was walking slowly down the middle of a street in west London looking half asleep and sullen. His face was gaunt and hollow, and the bags under his eyes looked like a permanent stain. Sirius needed to help him, but he wasn’t sure how.   
Over the last four months, Sirius had investigated every reason why Harry might have run away, and all evidence pointed in an extremely obvious direction.   
Harry thought that he was the weapon. From the beginning, Sirius wanted to tell Harry the truth about the prophecy, about all of it. But Sirius, like many others, was forced to follow the orders of Dumbledore, who deemed it necessary to torture Harry to the point where he considered himself a weapon. Dumbledore didn’t care about Harry’s health or wellbeing, he simply saw him as a means to an end.   
And Harry believed this. Now all Sirius had to do was change Harry’s mind. Great.


End file.
